


The Night That Followed

by ragingrainbow



Series: Child Doll [2]
Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Longing, M/M, Mentioned Louis de Pointe du Lac, Mentioned Marius de Romanus, POV Armand, POV First Person, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-25
Updated: 2003-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-12 21:24:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragingrainbow/pseuds/ragingrainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I am aware of the desire to give myself to him as I did last night; the taste of his blood and the feeling of his fangs in my neck still so fresh in my mind. I feel lust for him the way mortals want each other.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night That Followed

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Good to Embrace, Good to Love.

I open my eyes slowly. For a moment I have no clue where I am. I smell blood, the blood of another vampire, and something is tickling my neck.

I look down; steady, violet eyes gaze back at me. Lestat. He is tracing the vein in my neck with his finger.

"Morning, beautiful. Or rather, goodnight." His voice is so soft as he smiles at me.

I remember now. I remember my aching loneliness and my longing for another. I remember the memories which came to me in my dreams; the young boys on the pyre and my years of penance and suffering in the underground.

I shiver as the images flash through my mind. He pulls me closer.

"Hush. It's all in the past." His lips touch my brow softly. I relax against his comforting body.

The dreams shook me. I had tried to bury all my memories; I had tried to find my place in the world. But they always come back to me, and every time they do, I lose myself in them. And then I find myself as I was yesterday, no more than a lost child; helpless and unable to take care of myself.

Every time the memories disappear and I can once again enter the world, I feel ashamed. I see myself then as others must see me – the boy with the face of an angel, unkempt and broken. I find myself craving the company of a young one who can open my eyes to the world around me, the world that inevitably changed so much while I was stumbling blindly through it.

Lestat sighs softly beside me. I've closed my thoughts off now, unwilling to share them with anyone, but I know that he can feel my melancholy as surely as I can feel his gentle worry. His right hand is caressing my back, feeding me more of the intimacy I hungered for in my isolation.

My first thought had been to try to locate Marius. As my Maker, he is the one I can safely count on to take care of me when I fall. But I will always be painfully aware of the long years we were separated, and every time I see him I find that the pain comes back to me. A harsh kind of pain, mixed with an overwhelming desire to throw myself in his arms and once again become his child and pupil.

Because of this there is a great chasm between us now, and perhaps it is our doom that it shall remain for all time. That is why I could not go to my Master so full of my fear; I knew that if I let him take care of me, just once, I may never be able to leave his side again. My suffering has only bound me to him tighter, and this fact scares me.

Then I met Louis. Having once been a companion of mine, Louis need not be able to read my mind to tell that I was suffering. But how could I burden this ever tormented being, whom I had wronged so totally, with my own pain? So I merely talked to him for a while, listening to his tales of Lestat's latest adventure.

When he left, I knew that it was Lestat I must go to. We had both wronged each other, yes, living with this hatred tinged with love for many years. He had been the one to instigate my suffering; pulling me back brutally into a world I no longer knew how to live in, then refusing me as his companion. I had kept my resentment until our paths crossed again when, blinded with fury and love for another, I had refused him my help, killed his child and stolen his lover. Naturally, when again we both found ourselves alone, he refused my companionship a second time.

But I know that it has never been anger I felt for him. I have loved him, always, this dashing and self-assured vampire who has no patience for rules and limitations, yet shows such kindness and love for those close to him. And for a long time I fancied myself as his companion, imagined that I would be happy in his shadow.

Things have changed now. A vampire must never hold on to anger or regrets, for in the end we will merely be left with ten thousand lifetime's worth of them. Time is a healer, and time washes away anger and settles old scores. And therefore I knew as I set out for New Orleans two nights ago, that Lestat would surely welcome me. And knowing Lestat, I was convinced that he would not refuse the chance to clean me up. He believes strongly that vampires should always look elegant.

"Armand," he whispers, his fingers running soothingly through my hair. "You've opened your mind again, and I am quite unable to resist the temptation to read it."

I merely nod. I feel no anger at the knowledge that he has tried to read me all along. I realize that I no longer feel any desire to keep my secrets to myself, on the contrary, I long to share them.

"Your secrets shall stay between us, mon ami, until such a time when you share them with another yourself." He kisses my throat; I feel his lips against my pulse.

I am aware of the desire to give myself to him as I did last night; the taste of his blood and the feeling of his fangs in my neck still so fresh in my mind. I feel lust for him the way mortals want each other.

He touches his fangs to my neck. I hear myself whimper. He pierces my skin, drawing only a few mouthfuls before he lets go.

He shifts so that he can kiss my mouth. He opens up willingly and I taste blood, my blood. His tongue explores my mouth. He groans as I bite down, my fangs piercing the sensitive skin. His body shudders against mine as the blood flows into my mouth. His right hand grips my hair.

Lestat's blood is wonderfully spicy, yet it is sweet at the same time. I take only a small amount from him, and I can make out no clear images, only the warm love of our shared intimacy.

His eyes are closed as I release him. His skin is slightly warm now, as is mine, and his cheeks are a soft pink. I cup his beautiful face in my hands, and he opens his eyes to look at me.

"Won't you stay?" he asks softly, his voice revealing a certain urgency.

For many years, I have longed for this moment with him; for us to share this intimacy and be wilful companions. But now I shake my head.

"I can't." It pains me so to hear myself speak those words.

He nods. He understands. It is the curse of our existence that we crave companionship and intimacy, and yet we are unable to live in the company of another for a great length of time. This painful contradiction of feelings is possibly the hardest part of vampiric life.

"Come to me again," he says gently, "if you ever need me, come to me."

I look at him. His eyes have darkened with feeling; they are now almost the colour of dark plums, and his face shows compassion and love.

"Yes," I reply, not sure in my heart if I will ever fulfil this promise, "yes, and if ever you need me, just call and I shall answer."

He acknowledges this with a nod, and I know that it is unlikely that I shall ever receive his call. Lestat is not the kind of creature to look to others for help; and even when he does, he has other companions.

"No, Armand, I will call you." He takes my hand in his and presses it gently. I realise that this is goodbye, and suddenly I want to stay. But I can't, I know in my heart that I can't. We are both too strong, too stubborn, and very unlikely companions when I admit it to myself.

"Then I will answer." I touch my lips to his forehead in a gesture that seals the promises of friendship that we have exchanged.

He stands up, straightening my clothes and my hair as I join him. He smiles at me and then he takes my hand to lead me to the door. He stops just inside it and turns to me.

"You really are beautiful," he says, his face so close to mine that his breath caresses my skin. I realise that I can accept this line that I have heard so many times, because he is not merely referring to the angelic qualities that everyone praises and I often find a curse. The intimacy we finally shared has brought us closer together, and we now know each other's inner beauty. I smile at him.

"So are you." His lips meet mine in a chaste kiss. He releases his hold on my hand and opens the door for me.

I say nothing more before I step out into the night. I don't look back as I walk away a few blocks before I take to the air to go back to my own dwelling across the sea.


End file.
